


Tainted

by papercutperfect



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:33:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papercutperfect/pseuds/papercutperfect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the hell had they managed to become separated? It was the first unspoken rule in the book: do not split up.</p><p>[Zombie Apocalypse AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tainted

_Shit. Shit shit shitshittyshit._

Impossibly wide eyes flicked rapidly from left to right, pupils reduced to mere pinpricks in a sea of bright blue. After the music had abruptly ended, the mall had been thrown into deathly silence, save for the strangled breaths of a man hidden in the shadows of a broken vending machine. The gun gripped in his hand was slippery with sweat, once floppy brown hair stuck flat to his forehead. Peering around the edge of the vending machine, Charles Xavier swiped the hair from his pale face, not caring that it stuck up at an odd angle.

“…Moira?” His own voice sounded foreign to his ears, tight and strained. The spoken name was barely a whisper.

No one answered.

How the hell had they managed to become separated? It was the first unspoken rule in the book: _do not split up_. Movies had it totally wrong - a pair of characters splitting up to ‘cover more ground’ or something ridiculous like that. It was all bollocks, laughable really. If a gang of Walkers came at you, if even one lone little bugger managed to get behind you; without a partner to watch your back, you didn’t stand a chance.

It had been his fault, of course it had. If he’d used his powers instead of backing out again, he’d have seen the creature in the alcove before it had had the chance to get the drop on them. Moira had taken the brunt of the attack, the Walker - it was simply too terrifying, too real, to identify them as zombies - twisting its decaying fingers into her hair, teeth a flash of white.

Moira had screamed, Charles had screamed, a shot had been fired, though from who’s gun he wasn’t sure. The floor had suddenly become slick with something red - _god, please, no_ \- his feet slipping from under him. Everything had gone black after that, and he’d awoken moments later with a pounding headache and the echoes of Moira’s screams ringing in his memory. He hadn’t been unconscious for long, but there were hide nor hair of Moira or the Walker. A dotted trail of blood vanished around the corner ahead, glistening in the fluorescent light.

Swallowing hard, Charles licked dry lips, sliding out from behind the vending machine. Keeping his back firmly against the wall, he inched his way down the corridor. The striplight overhead flickered, a fresh wave of fear crashing over Charles as he froze, staring up at the dying bulb. He would quite possibly go mad if the lights went out - it was already hard enough to see clearly, but in the dark… a shudder trickled down Charles’ spine at the very thought.

The light buzzed and flickered again, but didn’t die just yet. Forcing himself to continue, Charles sucked in a stuttering breath and pressed onwards, his back sliding along the wall.

It was painfully obvious what he needed to do. He needed to scan for anyone alive in the close vicinity, to search for Moira’s mind. If she was alive - _please, please_ \- then her thoughts would be screaming for him. Charles fought back the nausea clawing at his stomach; he couldn’t do it. God, no, not yet.

At one time, what felt like decades past, Charles had been a powerful telepath. He could read people’s thoughts from miles away, project his own back and even manipulate people into doing whatever he wanted - though of course, his strong set of morals and manners stopped him from indulging in the latter. At least, not often.

The first time he’d attempted to read a Walker, he’d been met with nothing but raw bloodlust, the desire to hunt, kill, devour. It was deeply unsettling, shaking him to the very core. There was nothing in their minds other than that craving for flesh and blood - not a drop of true human emotion to be found. They never needed to sleep, never stopped hunting, just a constant thrum of _want need blood_. Charles had never felt anything like it before, and it had disturbed him greatly.

The second time he had tried had been extremely bad timing on his part; the Walker had just caught its struggling prey. Charles had felt it like it had been himself grabbing that girl, his own teeth drilling into her jugular with robotic precision, the hot spill of life hitting the roof of his mouth. Fingernails and canine teeth sank into the girl’s stomach, and Charles found himself screaming in utter horror as he watched the scene through the Walker’s eyes, unable to stop it, unable to wrench himself away as the girl was torn to pieces.

After that, Charles had closed his mind, folded tightly in on himself and locked away the minds of others. There was simply nothing in a Walker’s head for the telepath to grasp, nothing to control. They might as well have been inanimate objects, cold robots, lifeless yet walking. He couldn’t risk nor handle another encounter like that. His dreams were forever coloured red, that poor girl’s face burned behind his eyelids.

Edging slowly around the corner, Charles cursed in despair as he was greeted with the sight of an unmoving escalator leading up to the floor above. The blood trail continued up, and Charles inwardly fought his desire to flee. The blood could be Moira’s, yet it could also be the Walker’s - the trail could lead him to a warm pair of arms or a cold set of teeth.

Checking the gun, Charles’ couldn’t bite back a small sob, tears pricking his eyes. One bullet left. If it came to it, Charles would gladly eat it himself before a Walker could get its hands on him. The notion of becoming one of them, wandering the world forever hungry, tearing people he once loved to bloody pulp… killing himself would not be a difficult decision when faced with that.

Taking care not to step in the blood, Charles moved silently up the static metal stairs. The gun shook in his less than steady grip. It wasn’t a good idea to use it anyway - the noise of the shot would alert any close-by Walkers, and they’d be upon him in moments. Although normally rather slow, they could move quickly if they were hungry enough. Seeing one run at him once had rooted him to the spot with terror, bullets spraying as an equally petrified Moira shot wildly. Thankfully one had pierced the sprinting creature’s eye socket before it could leap at either of them. A hideous thought had prickled his skin - some day, they would all move this way, when their food was scarce. Would they wipe human kind out? At the rate they were spreading, it wouldn’t surprise Charles at all.

Reaching the top of the escalator, Charles squinted down the new corridor, turning a full circle to peer in both directions. The blood trail became thicker as Charles reached a T-junction, the trail leading around to the right. The telepath eyed the corridor warily; it was darker than the others. “Moira?” The whisper seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet.

A noise, the scuff of a heavy boot to his left, and Charles was whirling on the spot, hair standing on end, heart freezing in his chest as the gun fired.

It took a few seconds for Charles to be able to see clearly through his fright, blood rushing in his ears, entire body shaking with shock. A tall man stood a few feet from him, alive, breathing, and slightly cross-eyed as he observed the hovering bullet spinning an inch from his forehead.


End file.
